


Lost But Not Forgotten

by ufp13



Category: The Closer
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-22
Updated: 2015-01-22
Packaged: 2018-03-08 15:03:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3213512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ufp13/pseuds/ufp13
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Last names hadn’t been important when they had first met almost two decades ago in Washington.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lost But Not Forgotten

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sira](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sira/gifts).



> Not my sandbox, just playing it.  
> Thank you so much, Sam, for hunting down my mistakes! *HUGS*
> 
> This story was written a long time before Major Crimes taught us a lot about Sharon's private life, so please ignore those inconsistencies.

Life had a strange sense of humour, Fritz thought when he came face to face with the woman his wife considered the enemy. His eyes locked with hers, found recognition and the silent acknowledgement to let the past rest, it would be better for all involved. Life had gone on. There was no need to wake old ghosts. At least not publicly. 

Raydor. Sharon Raydor. He had only ever known her as Sharon. Last names hadn’t been important when they had first met, had spent time together almost two decades ago in Washington. At the time, he had been training with the FBI, liked to spend his evenings with colleagues in bars, to check out girls who were only looking for a few hours of fun as well. Those days were what he considered his wild days.

~*~

One night after everybody else in the group had left, an attractive brunette who looked like she was roughly his age asked if the seat next to him was taken. While his eyes were still busy taking her in, his mouth hurried to assure her the stool wasn’t occupied.

What followed could only be described as cliché. His eyes kept wandering from his glass – he couldn’t remember how many he had emptied before that one – to the woman next to him, trying to catch glimpses of her curves which were anything but concealed in the low-cut top she was wearing while at the same time attempting to not be obvious about this action, to avoid getting caught.

“You know, a woman knows when she’s being checked out,” she suddenly said, never taking her eyes off the colourful liquid in front of her.

The statement had him choke on his beer. “I’m sorry,” he stuttered.

“I’m sorry, too. I should have waited another two seconds until you had swallowed before speaking up.” Her eyes twinkled with mischief, belying the sincerity of her voice.

“It’s okay. I probably deserved it.”

Her only response was a grin.

She looked even more beautiful when she smiled, and he had to look away before he embarrassed himself even further.

“So, have you been sitting here all by yourself the whole evening or are you waiting for someone?” Her question drew his attention back to her.

“Neither. Was out with some friends, but they’ve left already.”

“And you’re the last man standing.”

“So it would seem, yeah.” He took a sip, leaving only dregs in the glass before putting it back on the table with a loud clang. “But what brings a beauty like you into a bar like this?” Yes, that last beer had definitely been one too many as this was clearly the alcohol talking and he couldn’t bring himself to feel bad about such a cheap line.

“Liquid amnesia in glasses.” She lifted her drink. “And the prospect of a guy like you.” Her eyes shamelessly roamed his body.

Whoa, he definitely hadn’t seen that one coming. Yes, he had noticed her sassiness, but her being that brazen came as a surprise. “And what could a guy like me do for you?”

She emptied her glass in one go before meeting his eyes again. “How do I best phrase it...? Fuck my brains out?”

Just when he had thought she couldn’t surprise him anymore, she had to say something like this and rob him of his ability to think, much less respond – verbally, at least; a different part of his body didn’t share the problems of his brain and mouth.

“If you’re interested, that is.” She raised an eyebrow but obviously wasn’t concerned about meeting with a rebuff. Not that she had any reason to. His earlier actions had communicated his interest loud and clear.

As a response, he reached for his wallet, took out some money, put it on the bar and signalled the bartender before slipping off of the stool and offering his hand to her. “Your place or mine or the alley behind the bar?” 

She laughed at the question.

Cliché seemed to be the theme of the evening. His colleagues so wouldn’t believe that one on Monday. Hell, he hadn’t even kissed her once and was about to get down and dirty with her. 

“Your place.” She took his hand. “Or would you rather the alley behind the bar?”

“If I have the choice... not today, thank you.”

Once outside the bar, he swirled her around into his arms and claimed her lips with his in a hard kiss. She neither responded in kind nor did she push him away.

He later learned that she didn’t like to kiss strangers. Kisses were intimate to her, too intimate to share with somebody she didn’t know very well, didn’t love. Whereas she had no problems conceiving of her body as an object, an instrument of lust and pleasure, she was unable to distance herself from her lips in the same manner. While that concept was rather foreign to him, he respected it, respected her, and never again tried to kiss her on the lips afterwards, even though he’d have given a lot to feel those soft lips against his own one more time.

 

~*~

 

A police captain. Head of the Force Investigation Division no less. She didn’t have that rank back then, he was sure, but just like they had never done last names, it had never occurred to him to ask about her profession. It would be easy for him now to find out, but he wasn’t even sure he wanted to know. In a way, he liked the mystery of the woman – the one she had been back then with him, the one she was now. It was hard to recognise the apparently by-the-book captain as the brazen woman he had met in that bar, to envision her in a tiny top and jeans rather than the suit she was wearing at the moment, but when he saw her eyes, he didn’t deem it impossible, found himself undressing her slowly in his mind all over again.

 

~*~

 

Slow was the last thing on either of their minds once they had closed the door of his apartment behind them.  
Impatiently, his hands tugged her shirt from the jeans then dove under it to cup her lace-clad breasts. In a similarly frantic motion, her fingers undid his belt, opened zipper and button to send his pants down around his feet.

Trying to take off his shoes without removing his hands from her body, he surely looked a bit inept, but at that moment, he didn’t care about appearance or dignity. He had a sexy, willing brunette pressed against the wall next to his door – there were definitely more important things for him to concentrate on than the level of gracefulness with which he disrobed. The stuff had to come off, that was all that mattered.

Not giving it a second thought, he kicked his shoes in whatever direction they chose to fall and sent his pants after them. While he fumbled with lower body wear, she had unbuttoned his shirt and was busy mapping his chest with her teeth and lips, surely leaving marks, marks he usually tried to avoid with a one-night stand or on the first night. Depending on how long the marks stuck around, they made picking up another girl more difficult.

For some strange reason, he didn’t mind so much tonight, with this woman. He had the feeling she had already engraved herself in his mind forever, so carrying her mark on his skin for a few days wouldn’t be all that bad. It was doubtful he’d find another one after her, another like her very soon anyway. That was the downside of amazing women you picked up for a night: the next ones would feel rather dull until enough time had passed to blur the memory. Something told him that time would be longer with her than it had ever been before. And not just because of her stunning curves which had just been revealed to him as she pulled her top over her head and let it drop carelessly to the floor.

The lacy bra his fingers had discovered earlier turned out to be soft pink – she had indulged her secret girly side, something she didn’t do very often, not that he would have known. He had to say it suited her, though.

“Beautiful,” he murmured against the skin of her neck. What was up with him tonight? He didn’t have a habit of complimenting women who only stayed for a few hours, a night at most. No sense in getting all mushy; he reserved that for the times he wanted to dine and woo a woman, wanted more from her than just a quick fuck, wanted her to stay. Maybe it should tell him something that he was whispering compliments now while his lips brushed over the slightly freckled skin of this sassy woman.

No time to analyse his own behaviour right now, though, for she cupped his balls – when had his underwear vanished? Not that it really matter right now – instantly killing any thoughts he had besides the carnal ones that involved getting her out of her pants and anything else she was still wearing before he took her – maybe against the wall, maybe on the floor, maybe with her legs around his hips, maybe from behind, maybe with her on top. The possibilities seemed endless, and he wanted it all. One time wouldn’t do it with her, he could feel it. Sleep was overrated anyway.

Apparently, she harboured similar thoughts as she placed one of his hands on her belt buckle and told him in no uncertain terms to take her pants off already.

She didn’t have to tell him twice. Within a few seconds, her jeans found themselves around her ankles. Her panties matched the bra, and damn, she looked hot in them. However, he was sure she would look even more amazing out of them. This theory definitely needed to be confirmed by a practical test – right now.

With more fineness than he had thought himself capable of at that point, he managed to swiftly open the front closure – bless this woman – of her bra, pushing it off her shoulders a second later. Before they could mirror that action with her panties, though, his hands got distracted by her breasts. By some unseen force, they were drawn to the soft globes like a moth to the flame. Not surprised, he found he liked the feel of her breasts in his hands, liked how they filled them. For some moments, he was content to fondle her rack, tweak her nipples, make her moan. Not before long, however, his lower half reminded him that there was more to this woman, more to discover, to uncover than this particularly nice pair of boobs.

As if she could read his thoughts, she pushed her panties down her legs, thus saving them from a more violent fate and wrapped her legs around his hips. Definitely a step in the right direction. It took a few more shoves and pushes – urgency wasn’t helpful when it came to finesse and accuracy – but then her walls finally enclosed his hard cock. That heavenly sensation caused a loud moan to slip from his throat.

While the position didn’t normally bother him much, it wouldn’t do tonight. He wanted more from this woman, more with this woman. She was too good to be a simple prop. So he cupped her ass with both hands and swung her away from the wall. A bit surprised by his move, she let out a short shriek but wound her arms around his shoulders and held on.

They didn’t make it very far, partly due to the movement pushing him in deeper, partly due to her licking his neck thus distracting him from any destination he might have had in mind. The walk ended at the couch standing in the middle of his living room. Stumbling against it, he sat her down on the backrest. It definitely had a nice height.

As he started to thrust hard again, she all but ripped his shirt from his shoulders, leaving them equally naked, giving her unrestricted access to his back, which her fingernails instantly made use of. It seemed he had caught himself a wildcat indeed.

As it should be, his couch wasn’t bolted to the floor. Right now, however, he found that fact irritating as the piece of furniture moved a bit with each push of his hips. Finding his confusion mirrored on the face of the woman who clung to him, he moved to pick her up again to find a more suitable location, but she protested, demanded to be put down.

Reluctantly, he did as she had asked. It only took a moment for his mood to brighten again, though, as she turned around, braced herself against the nearest wall, presented him with her perfect backside. Damn, she was hot. He loved a woman who wasn’t shy about her body, knew what she wanted and how to get it.

Accepting her invitation, he grabbed her hips and entered her again with one thrust. The upside of this position was that she couldn’t claw his back and shoulders anymore, the downside was that he couldn’t see her eyes anymore – and that she couldn’t claw his back and shoulders anymore, he had just started to enjoy the sensation, the brutal evidence of the effect he was having on her.

One hand on her hip, the other buried in her hair, he kept a fast pace, each push from him countered by her. The air was filled with moans, heavy breathing and the slapping sound of wet flesh clashing.

“Touch yourself,” he groaned loudly, feeling himself nearing oblivion as her inner walls squeezed his cock again and again. Apparently, she was out for his sanity.

Releasing his hold on her hair – that soft but strong mane – he moved his hand to cup a breast, kneading it, tweaking the nipple while she complied with his demand, one of her hands finding its way between her legs, rubbing her pleasure point. Under the multitude of stimulations, her moans got louder, her movement more frantic.

Unable to restrain himself, he bit down on her shoulder as he pushed over the edge and followed only moments later. He hadn’t come that hard in a while. His legs felt as if they were made of rubber, and it seemed the same was true for her arms as they stumbled against the wall, the arm on which she had supported herself against the wall having given way.

High on endorphins and still panting, they laughed upon colliding with the wall.

“God... you’re... good,” he got out between breaths.

“Needed that,” she agreed.

“Night’s still... long.” He felt cocky, wanted more of her. It shouldn’t take him too long to recuperate, and until then, he would surely find a way to entertain both of them.

“Promises, promises...” she teased, laughing when he growled at her, feigning a bruised ego.

Gathering all his strength, he picked up the still-giggling woman, threw her over his shoulder and carried her off to his bedroom, where he dumped her onto his bed and collapsed next to her on the mattress.

“So you do have a bed. Nice.” Yes, definitely a tease.

“Hey, only special people get the grand tour.”

She hummed in reply, making him realise just what he had just said and thankful that she didn’t push the point.

“And now that we’re here...”

He didn’t allow her to finish the sentence – if she even had the intention of finishing it to begin with – cut her off by closing his lips around one of her nipples, suckling, biting lightly. 

His first instinct had been to kiss her, but the moment he started to move in, he remembered the earlier experience and didn’t want to add to his list of screw-ups right now, fearing it would drive her out of his bed, out of his apartment before sunrise. So he directed his attention elsewhere. With her entire body being a feast for his senses, he didn’t lack options.

And thus the dance began anew. Exploring her curves with his mouth and hands, he made her come again before taking his own pleasure from her body once more.

 

~*~

 

There had been oral sex, there had been anal sex, there had been good old-fashioned missionary sex, there had been lots of things in between. At the end of the night, they had both fallen asleep utterly exhausted but very satisfied. At the end of the night, he had known every freckle, every scar, every mole that covered her body – but he hadn’t known her name.

In the morning, he had woken up alone in his bed, his bedroom in disarray, to the final rattle of his coffeemaker that signalled it having successfully done its job. In the corridor, he had almost stumbled over his own clothes. Not awake enough yet to care, he had just kicked the obstructive object aside. Reaching the kitchen, he had found the woman responsible for the marks he had spotted on his chest and was sure to have on his back sitting at his little table, completely dressed, her hair in a ponytail, a cup of coffee in her hand, looking as hot as his fogged mind had remembered her from the bar.

 

~*~

 

“Good morning,” she greeted him. “I hope you don’t mind.” She nodded at the cup of coffee she held.

“Not at all,” he assured her, moving to get one for himself.

“Thanks.” With that, she emptied the cup, got up, put it into his sink and left the kitchen.

Not sure what was happening, he simply followed her.

Having located her shoes, she put them on before reaching into her rear pocket and pulling out a folded piece of paper.

“If you want to do this again...” She handed him the piece of paper that he assumed contained her number, and walked away, leaving him to stare at her swinging hips.

Once she had rounded the corner and had managed to shake himself out of his reverie, he unfolded the paper.

No phone number, no nothing. Just a first name – Sharon – and the info to be at the bar again in two days around ten p.m. if he wanted to do it again. If he couldn’t make it while wanting to, he should leave a message with the bartender.

Talk about no strings attached. Whenever he had gotten the offer of a repeat performance in the past, the girl had given him her number – or he had handed over his. But there was no question he would be there. He wanted to see her again, wanted to taste her, to feel her.

 

~*~

 

They had more or less continued like this, casual drinks and sex, random talk with some facts about themselves mixed into the stories, but never revealing more than necessary, too much, never giving hints about their lives outside their lust-filled bubble of carnal pleasure – although she had been better at that than he had been. He assumed that he had let a few more things slide in that she wouldn’t have shared had they been hers. Despite – or maybe because of – the lightness of this relationship, unusual as it had been – he had felt connected to her on a deeper level. He could have loved her, but she wouldn’t let him.

When she had sensed the commitment on his side growing, she had cut the ties. Instead of her, he had found a note at their meeting place, saying, “Thanks for fucking my brains out.” No signature, but it hadn’t been needed. In his mind, this line would be forever connected with the mysterious brunette he’d had the privilege of calling his lover for a short while.

Maybe she had been married at the time and had wanted the thrill of an affair? He really knew nothing about her besides her body and what she looked like when she orgasmed. Some part of him wanted to ask all these questions now, wanted to know the whys, the hows, the whens, but he knew there was no sense in asking, no sense in knowing the answers. The past was the past, and it was better if it stayed there, no matter how much he wished to feel her skin under his fingers once more, her breasts against his chest, to see her lose control because his lips drove her wild.

He was married to another now. And if he wanted that marriage to stay happy, his wife had better never find out what he had been doing during the nights in Washington while she had been busy fucking the boss. Double standard ruled life after all. 

= End =


End file.
